


Cliché

by RubyFiamma



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: 8059, 8059 week, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Cliche, Day One Prompt "Rain/Storm", Established Relationship, Gift Fic, Kissing in the Rain, M/M, Prompt Fill, Ridiculous amounts of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-19 15:14:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3614625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RubyFiamma/pseuds/RubyFiamma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"We're in the middle of a thunder storm, and you want to stop and feel the rain?"</i>
</p><p>

In which Yamamoto is a ridiculous, corny loser but Gokudera doesn't mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cliché

**Author's Note:**

> For [jen-nessa](http://jen-nessa.tumblr.com/). 
> 
> Happy birthday! 
> 
> Fill for [this](http://rubyfiamma.tumblr.com/post/114096719302/send-me-a-pairing-and-a-number-and-ill-write-you) prompt. 
> 
> 8059 Week Day 1 : Rain/Storm

**Pairing:** Yamamoto Takeshi/Gokudera Hayato /8059/  
**Fandom:** Katekyo Hitman Reborn!  
**Rating:** T  
**Warnings:** Gross and disgusting cliché fluff.

 **Prompt: ******Day 1, ** _Rain / Storm_**

* * *

**Cliché**

It's one of those days, dreary and gloomy with pregnant grey skies and static charge in the air; the kind that drag on forever, where every passing minute feels like an eternity and home seems like the most comforting yet furthest thing out of reach.

Gokudera can't stop staring at the clock, the hands passing with a tick and a tock, yet they don't seem to get any closer to three o' clock dismissal time. The classroom is quiet and the teacher continues to drone on, but Gokudera can't seem to focus. The swollen clouds outside have yet to explode but they've been like this all day so Gokudera knows it's going to pour and he doesn't have a jacket or an umbrella with him. What's worse is the Tenth is home sick and Yamamoto has club activities, so it's likely a walk home alone to beat the rain.

He could wait for Yamamoto, despite the want to make it home before the cloudburst, giving up staying relatively warm and dry for the sake of the other's company, which is what he inevitably ends up doing after the bell sounds. He's sitting in the stairwell of the west wing of the school reading from his chemistry text book when he hears the first roll of thunder echo through the empty halls. Seconds later, there's another clash of thunder erupting some place else and with that comes the expected downpour.

With a heavy sigh, Gokudera gets to his feet and shoves his book into his bag, as Yamamoto's practice won't likely continue in this kind of weather, which means they can still make it home before Gokudera's favourite show starts playing. He makes his way down to the front of the school, but not before stopping to stare out of the large paned window looking out onto the field. There's no sign of Yamamoto or his teammates but Gokudera can see the lightning sparking up the sky and torrents of rain hit the glass, streaming in wide channels to the ground below.

"Gokudera!"

His name is light and bubbly off the other's tongue, resonating through the hollow corridor louder than the thunder that precedes it. Gokudera turns on his heel and Yamamoto's waiting at the other end, with eyes illuminated amber in the dim glow of the overhead fluorescents against the dark backdrop of the sky and a smile so wide and open it appears to be the brightest thing in the space. It's infectious, because Gokudera's smiling too, as he swings his bag over his shoulder. Yamamoto's hair is just a little bit damp, but his uniform is dry thanks to the probably soaked baseball uniform drying in the boy's locker room. He's run his hand through it a few times, Gokudera can tell, with the array of licks and strands that stand straight up instead of falling flat against his head like Gokudera's own hair does when it's wet.

"They cancelled practice because of the rain," Yamamoto chirps when Gokudera's close enough that he slings an arm over the other's shoulders and drops a kiss to the top of his head. There's no one around to see, the other club members might have already left or lingering in the lockeroom but still, Gokudera's growling and pushing Yamamoto away despite the flutter the contact does to his heart.

Gokudera hisses, "Idiot! Someone could see!" as Yamamoto laughs, "Sorry, sorry! I forgot!" and they're both drowned out by the crack of thunder that vibrates the glass of the front doors.

"Did you bring an umbrella?" Gokudera asks, looking up as lightning pales the tan of Yamamoto's skin. He's staring out into the storm with a determined smile on his face and Gokudera suddenly gets a heavy knot in his stomach and the sensation of foreboding is crawling under his skin.

"Nope," Yamamoto chimes as he pushes the door open. Gokudera can hear the rush of rain hitting the trees and the ground and he stops to inhale the petrichor spreading through the ozone. He notices Yamamoto does the same, closing his eyes and breathing out, " _Ah_ ," with a satisfied smile on his face.

"We're gonna get fucking soaked," Gokudera mutters, turning away to hide the heat under his cheeks and the grin that splays his lips. He's got a hand on the crash bar of the door and has added a touch of weight to his arm so that the door is just slightly ajar and rain is splashing in from outside.

"We'll go to your place, it's closer," Yamamoto suggests. "Unless you planned on seeing Tsuna after school?"

"I was," Gokudera replies, "But I was only going to go if the rain hadn't started, so I'm just going to just go home instead."

"Oh," Yamamoto sounds disappointed, and Gokudera grabs at his wrist, lets his fingers trace over the soft thickness of the wristband Yamamoto still wears years later, until they find their way to the centre of the other's palm. He lets his fingers linger there for a second before pulling them away just as Yamamoto's fingers close over them; his hand is too warm and falling into familiarity of holding the other's hand here at school is far more dangerous than doing so in the comfort of their homes when there's no one around to see.

"Obviously you're coming too, idiot," Gokudera huffs.

There's a quick exchange, Yamamoto's reaching out to wrap a hand around Gokudera wrist that's place to the other wristband of the set, trailing his fingers down to clasp Gokudera's hand in his own. Yamamoto squeezes before letting go, and the tips of his fingers brushing the back of Gokudera's hand, igniting rapid heat through his veins like a kerosene doused fuse.

"I'll race you," Yamamoto grins wickedly. "Winner gets the title of Tsuna's right hand man?"

Gokudera's dazed for all of half a second before he can compose himself with a grunt and an, "As if," scoffing as he takes off running through the sheets of cold rain that instantly seep through his clothes and into his bones. "I won't lose to you!" he calls back as Yamamoto darts through the surge.

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," Yamamoto laughs as he catches up, and Gokudera knows this isn't going to be easy with the other boy's strides long enough to keep up with his own, natural speed. The soles of Gokudera's shoes smack hard against the wet concrete as he quickens his pace, his grip constantly sliding off the strap of his bag, until his lungs are burning and his calves are aching and his hair is clinging to his neck like thick silver rope. He doesn't hear Yamamoto behind him, doesn't hear anything but the sound of pelting rain and thunder crashing somewhere in the distance. He doesn't want to stop at first, but worry overwrites logic, and he comes to a skidding halt, whipping around so quickly he nearly gives himself whiplash.

Yamamoto, the idiot, is standing on the sidewalk with his hands outstretched, soaked through and through. His white dress shirt is clinging to the curve of his arms, his dark hair and popped collar matted flat against his skin. He's got his face turned up to the clouds and the heavy rain is flowing off the lean of his body like an enchanting waterfall. Gokudera is still, his shoulders and chest heaving with every inhale. He smiles, because there's no one around to see, and when he catches his breath he yells, "We're in the middle of a thunderstorm, and you want to stop and feel the _rain_?"

Yamamoto chortles delight, mouth open to catch the fat drops falling, and it makes Gokudera's heart race and skin catch fire. He turns with a grin, water streaming down his face and neck in rivulets, collecting in the dip of his collar bone. "It feels great, Gokudera! Come on, you try it too!"

Gokudera takes a few steps towards the other, stifling laughter as much as he can when he snaps, "You look like an idiot!" far more endearing than he had intended it to sound.

"Well, we're already wet, just try it!" Yamamoto calls back gleefully, loud enough that his voice carries over the barrage of rain and thunder. His smile is winning, so soft and so warm that Gokudera is already capitulating as he closes the distance between them. He's drenched, chilled frigid from the rain yet he's glowing inside, taking time to appreciate the smaller, less significant things in life -- something he hadn't done before meeting his new family; since meeting Yamamoto.

Gokudera lets his school bag drop to the sidewalk and he spreads out his arms like he were accepting the rainstorm as a gift from the gods, lifting his face in praise while he closes his eyes. The rushing rain feels amazing cascading down his face even if his clothes feel disgusting sticking thick to his skin. There's only the sound of the thunder rolling, Gokudera's too focused on that and the patter of rain on rooftops and the way it sounds flowing through eavestroughs, a good minute at least before Gokudera's aware of footsteps on the pavement approaching him and he doesn't have time to snap his head around in the general direction because there's a hand tangling in his hair to bring his head up and he's opening his eyes, watching as Yamamoto ducks in and there's lips pressing against his own. He reaches for some sort of startled aggression but he can't, he's already thawing out into Yamamoto's grip that pulls at his waist and melting at the thrumming vibration of Yamamoto humming against his mouth.

There's water running off the bridge of Yamamoto's nose, collecting at the seam of their mouths and Gokudera's opening his to lick the taste of rain off Yamamoto's lips. There's heat against his tongue, fleshing out into his veins until his entire body is flushed with warmth. Everything is hot and hazy, Yamamoto's thumb glides across his cheekbone and when he tries to pull away to gasp for a breath, Gokudera's fists are twisting at his shirt to drag him in closer, to fits his lips against Yamamoto's. It's him, this time, that whimpers when Yamamoto's tongue is slipping passed his lips to taste the inside of his mouth, and for a second Gokudera feels weightless, like the ground has dropped out from underneath him and his stomach's swooping like he's free falling. It's only when Yamamoto's leaning too much into the kiss and Gokudera's arching back to accommodate him that he remembers they're under pool of orange flooding down from a street lamp outside dozens of houses on a would-be crowded street had it not been for the rainstorm. It's then he urges himself back into some semblance of clarity, pushes back at Yamamoto's shoulders until the other is standing upright and gazing down at him with glazed over gold, shuttered behind curtains of damp black. Yamamoto looks drowsy, disconnected; colour riding high in his cheeks and drops of rain are rolling off the curve of his mouth and Gokudera's finding it hard to resist the urge to reel him in and chase the heat sparking from the other's lips. 

"Idiot," he breathes, finally composing himself enough to pick his sopping wet bag off the sidewalk and throw it over his shoulder. "We're out in the fucking rain, are you nuts?" 

Yamamoto blinks like he's been pulled from an alternate reality and back into this one, his gaze flittering up to set on Gokudera's eyes instead of his mouth. He's smiling bright, his eyes crinkling at the corners, "Ah, sorry. I --", and then there's laughter erupting from his throat, a sound light and full of mirth and Gokudera's grabbing at him again, tugging the other in and tipping his head up to crush his mouth against Yamamoto's, the other's laughter dying out, muffled against Gokudera's lips. It's not a long kiss, and it's too much heat and too much teeth and Gokudera's shoving Yamamoto back with enough force to tip the other back on his heels, laughing as he goes. 

"Let's go home," Gokudera growls, grabbing Yamamoto at the wrist and urging the other to follow. 

"Alright." Yamamoto's still laughing, and as usual, not offering any resistance as they trudge through the rain. "That was fun, wasn't it?" 

"You're a moron," Gokudera chides but he's smiling because not even the weather itself can put a damper on this improved mood. "We'll probably catch a cold for all this idiocy."

"Well," Yamamoto says, "all the more reason to stay home and take care of each other." 

Gokudera groans, and picks up the pace, and he can feel the water sloshing in his shoes, squishing between his toes and he wants nothing more than to strip out of these clothes and into something dry. He can see his apartment complex ahead, can already feel the heat of the shower soaking in through his skin and the radiating warmth of Yamamoto wrapped around him as they settle in for the night. It doesn't take them long to reach the building, and as the both of them push inside the apartment, laughing while peeling off their wet clothing and racing to the bath, Gokudera thinks it's not so bad to stop and enjoy the little things, even if it means getting kissed in the middle of a rainstorm. 


End file.
